


Once Was Lost

by redandglenda



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Accidental Voyeurism, Drunk Sex, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 08:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10895172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redandglenda/pseuds/redandglenda
Summary: The night before he joined Starfleet, Jim had an out-of-this-world amazing drunken hookup, and ever since he's been chasing that feeling. But try as he might (and he has alotof sexual might), no one measures up.





	Once Was Lost

After Pike makes his speech and leaves the bar, Jim struggles to his feet and walks purposefully toward the bar to get another drink, only to find that the bartender isn’t going to serve the person who caused all his clientele to leave suddenly. Go figure.

“I need a fucking drink,” Jim mutters to himself as he steps out of the bar. Jim was mildly drunk when he started the fight with Cupcake, but now he isn’t nearly drunk enough to deal with some ‘Fleet asshole bringing up his dead father like he knew him.

The only other place in town still selling booze is a club a mile or so away, so Jim starts walking in that direction. Jim hates this podunk town for many reasons, one of which is its distinct lack of anything approaching a night life. The pathetic corner of his mind that obviously isn’t drunk enough protests that the main reason he hates this town is the awful memories of his childhood that seem to haunt his every step, but Jim forces that corner quiet. And seriously just _fuck_ Pike for bringing his dad up. Fuck, he needs a drink.

The pulsing neon lights and throbbing bass line inside the club are a shock after the dark quiet of his walk and Jim relishes the jolt to his system. The deafening music makes it hard for him to dwell on his dark thoughts from earlier, and he knows that once he gets dancing, he’ll be able to stave off the need to finish his fight.

Jim pushes his way to the bar and orders three shots of Saurian brandy that he drinks in quick succession before scanning the dance floor for a good place to dance. He’s not really in the mood to start anything, which is good since he, sadly, has known most of the people in this club for almost his whole life. The drama of small town gossip is ridiculous, and Jim sometimes dreams of getting away and living somewhere no one knows his name, before remembering that someone will always know his name. _Thanks again, Dad_ , he thinks bitterly.

A group of three brunettes catch his eye, and Jim grins as he pushes past the writhing mess of dancers on the floor to get to them. Bill, Sarah, and Abraxus had been a thruple for the last ten years, ever since Bill and Sarah had gone to college in Seattle a couple, and returned with Abraxus in tow. The town had been outraged, of course, but got over it eventually, in time for the next scandal to spread gossip raging through the town. Jim’s always liked them, especially Abraxus, who seems to always find time to answer Jim’s questions about his home planet of Capella IV.

When they see him, Bill shouts, “Jimbo!”, and Sarah and Abraxus tug him in for a hug.

The combination of Saurian brandy, loud music, and the press of bodies against his, finally pushes all thoughts of Pike from his head, and Jim smiles brightly at them. “I get Bill first,” he yells.

Bill’s the best dancer of the thruple and he knows it. He smiles broadly at Jim and whirls Jim around into a dip.

Jim laughs delightedly, and dances with the three of them for as long as they let him, grinding and twirling and shimmying till he feels weightless with it.

Some time later the thruple leaves for home and Jim is on his own again. He dances for a couple of songs with the people around him, but it’s not enough. Thoughts about his dead father and his mother who might as well have been dead for all that she was around when he was a kid begin to rise slowly from the back of his mind, and Jim can’t have that.

He desperately scans the crowd for someone he doesn’t know who might be willing to fuck him hard enough to give him a respite from the thoughts he usually keeps buried deep. Annoyingly, he doesn’t see anyone new, so he starts back toward the bar to see if getting black out drunk will help quiet his mind. It usually does, so Jim’s hopeful, but the fact that he stumbles hard as soon as he’s out of the tightly packed crowd that had apparently been keeping him upright means he’s probably already at that level of drunkenness already.

Just as he’s about to ignore all common sense and place an order for a shitload of alcohol, Jim spots a handsome guy slumped down on the bar a few people along from him. Jim squints a bit in his direction, trying to force his drink-slow brain to decide if it’s anyone from town he knows but is too drunk to identify, or just someone passing through. After a moment, and a few deep breaths of air to try to force some sobriety back, he decides on the latter.

Jim pushes himself unsteadily to his feet, and makes his way over to the stranger. He stumbles to a stop right behind the guy and his thoughts stop sloshing around in his head to fixate for a solid minute on the dark green plaid shirt the guy is wearing. For all that this town is tiny and backwards, not that many people actually wear plaid. Especially not pristine plaid that isn’t frayed by farm work. He reminds Jim of a cartoon lumberjack. All polished and shit. Like that guy in that old Johnny Appleseed vid or something.

Broad shoulders are hunched forwards, pulling the shirt tight and showing off the gorgeous line of his spine. As tempting as the sight is, Jim’s a bit wary of how the stranger seems to only be holding his head up with his hands. Even drunk, Jim has firm rules about not having sex with anyone too drunk to (enthusiastically) consent, so he’s conscious this might not work out. But he wouldn’t be Jim Kirk if he didn’t ask. He’s always figured that the worst a person can say is ‘no’, and Jim’s well used to rejection, so it’s always worth trying the Jim Kirk charm and hoping for the best. Hope for the best, expect the worst. The Jim Kirk way.

At this point, Jim realises he’s been standing staring at the stranger’s back for way too long, so he makes his approach. He faces away from the bar and leans his elbows back against the bar next to the stranger, only skidding a bit. He’s aiming for sexy, but he’ll take casual nonchalance at this point. “Hey there,” he says. Not his best opener, but he didn’t slur, so it’s a win.

The stranger lifts his head from his hands slowly and gives Jim an obvious look over. The corner of his lips quirk up, “Hey yourself,” he says. He has an accent that Jim is too drunk to place and it sounds good. Like a sexy lumberjack.

“I want to lick your accent,” Jim says, stupidly.

The stranger barks out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement. His eyes flick down to Jim’s mouth, then back up, and he says, “You do have the mouth for it. If anyone could do it, I reckon it’d be you.”

Jim smiles proudly, and he cocks a hip invitingly and rests the fingers of the hand closest to the guy on his wrist.

The stranger’s hand twitches a bit when Jim touches it, and Jim is ready to lift his hand off, but the guy just flips his hand over and catches Jim’s fingers with his. His gaze is intense as it moves from where their fingers are slowly stroking each other, down to Jim’s cocked hip. It lingers on the swell of Jim’s bicep and sweeps across his collarbone, practically undressing Jim as it goes.

Jim’s breath catches in his chest for a moment at how hot and heavy the stranger’s gaze is. The fingers stroking his are dexterous and strong, dragging up and down with intermittent and purposeful squeezes. Jim needs those fingers inside of him yesterday.

“Bathroom?” Jim gasps out.

The stranger smirks, “Yeah.” He makes to get up, but pauses and asks, “What’s your name?”

What a gentleman this lumberjack is. “Johnny,” Jim says. His brain is still sticking on Johnny Appleseed, and his brain-to-mouth filter is long gone, so he adds, “Appleseed.”

The man laughs. “I guess that makes me Paul Bunyan.”

“The lumberjack,” Jim exclaims. He knew there was lumberjack in there.

Jim grins broadly at the man for playing along with his game and pushes himself off the bar.

‘Paul’ stands, then. Their chests brush and Jim can’t help leaning in to give a biting kiss to the man’s jaw.

The man moans softly and drags his hands up Jim’s sides and then back down to Jim’s ass. He gives it a generous squeeze and says gruffly, “Lead the way.”

Jim doesn’t notice the press of people dancing as he pushes toward the bathroom. All he can concentrate on is the feeling of the man’s warm fingers clasped with his. His sexy lumberjack with his strong fingers, perfect for gripping axes, or other lumberjack shit. Fuck, Jim’s drunk.

There aren’t any single bathrooms so they push into the men’s restroom. Jim has basically no shame, and it seems the stranger doesn’t mind either if his pushing Jim up against the wall to kiss deeply is any indication.

Jim immediately opens his mouth to the man’s tongue and it sweeps confidently inside. It strokes the roof of Jim’s mouth before flicking back to Jim’s lips, then dipping it again, before the man’s teeth nip at Jim’s lower lip. The skillful way the man kisses has Jim hard and pressing against him, trying to get friction on his aching cock.

The man reaches down to palm Jim’s ass again and uses his grip to pull Jim after him into one of the bathroom stalls.

Jim lets out an ‘oof’ as he is pushed hard up against the wall with the stranger’s mouth sucking bruises behind his ear. His head spins with the sudden movement and he braces his hands on the stranger’s lovely broad shoulders to keep himself steady.

Jim hadn’t meant it as a hint, but the guy apparently takes it as one since he quickly slides to his knees and undoes Jim’s belt and jeans. Jim looks dizzily down at them and is reminded of the deft fingers that he wanted inside of him earlier. The thought still holds firm as those gorgeous fingers pull out his cock and stroke it firmly and the stranger flicks his tongue against the head.

Any other day Jim would love nothing more that to get blown by this ridiculously attractive man, but on a night like tonight when his thoughts are a dark stormy mess of memories and emotions, Jim _needs_ to be fucked.

The guy has just started sucking Jim’s cock in earnest when Jim quietly asks, “Will you fuck me?”

There is a choking sound as the guy gags a bit before pulling off all the way to ask, “Really?”

“What, you don’t want to?” Jim feels self-conscious all of a sudden. He presses his hips back, away from where they had been straining away from the wall toward the guy.

“Of course I do, kid, Jesus. Did you miss the part where I couldn’t keep my hands off your ass?” The man sounds bewildered, which is. Good? Good.

“Yes. Your hands, my ass. Please,” Jim says heatedly. He didn’t mean to sound so fucking earnest, but his level of drunkenness means all of his filters are gone. He spares a fleeting moment to be sad that there is no way he’s going to remember any of this tomorrow before snapping back into himself.

The stranger chuckles darkly as he gets to his feet. “Do you have anything? I ain’t fucking you dry.”

Jim is done talking for now, so he reaches into his back pocket and produces a condom and small tube of lube.

The stranger’s smile broadens, and he leans in to take them from Jim. He brushes a quick kiss to the corner of Jim’s lips and says, “Turn around.”

Jim shivers at the dark tone and does as he’s told. He shoves his jeans and briefs down quickly then puts his hands on the wall in front of him. He flushes with the thought of how exposed he is to this stranger, this man whose name he still doesn’t know, and he pushes his ass towards the guy eagerly. No shame, no gain. Another Jim Kirk classic.

Jim gasps as a finger nudges against his hole. It rubs around the rim for a moment before pushing slowly in, stretching Jim pleasantly. It’s been too long since Jim last got fucked, and he’s missed this. The stretch, the give, the push, the fullness. “Fuck,” he moans as a second finger is added.

“Feel good?” the man asks from behind Jim.

Jim nods enthusiastically, and says, “More.”

The fingers scissor inside of Jim for a long delicious moment, rotating every which way and pressing deeper before a third pushes in at exactly the time Jim was ready for it. Jim knew the guy would be good with his hands, but this? _Fuck_. It’s like he’s a fiddle and this guy is Cotton-eyed Joe, playing him so damn well.

Jim floats in a drunken haze, enjoying the skillful fingers stroking inside of so deeply and so right. He lets out an embarrassing little whine when the fingers withdraw completely from his ass.

“Shh, darlin’, I’ve got you,” the man says lowly.

As if from a distance, Jim hears the crinkle of the condom wrapper being opened. He also hears the flush of a toilet in another stall and it almost draws him out of happy drunken sex fog, but then he feels something large pressing against his hole and any other thoughts vanish completely.

The stranger’s cock pushes slowly but steadily into Jim. He has a solid grip on Jim’s hips that he uses to keep Jim right where he wants him, and Jim can’t help but find that unbearably hot.

The pressure builds and builds inside of Jim until the stranger has bottomed out. Jim shudders at the intense full feeling and arches his back and pushes his ass back to let the stranger know he’s ready.

With a grunt and press of lips to the nape of Jim’s neck, the stranger draws most of the way out of Jim before snapping his hips forward again.

The sharp thrust winds Jim for a second. He had expected the fingering of his life, but he hadn’t expected the fucking of his life too. The harshness of the thrusts makes something deep inside Jim rattle free. He feels undone and overwhelmed and he never wants it to stop.

The stranger doesn’t let up on his fast pace, and slams roughly into Jim over and over. He must have used most of the small packet of lube fingering Jim, as the thrusts which had started slick, are now dragging a bit roughly and pulling at Jim’s tender hole with each thrust. It is the exact amount of pain Jim likes when he’s being fucked. He isn’t really into pain as a sexual thing, but this edge of almost-too-much is perfection.

Jim loses track of time as his whole world narrows down to just the two of them. There could be a whole parade of people coming through to use the other cubicles, having loud conversations, making judgments about the obvious sex sounds, and all Jim can concentrate on is the heady, floaty feeling of being fucked within an inch of his life while drunk. His brain sloshes happily around in his head and his body rocks happily between the wall and the hot, hot stranger, and it’s all good.

Jim is taken by surprise when he comes. The stranger reaches around to grip his cock just once and that is all it takes. Jim spills over his fingers and his brain lights up like a Christmas tree.

“Wow,” Jim says dazedly.

The stranger stills at his voice. “Want me to stop?”

What a gentleman. “No, no, keep going,” Jim says.

At his first “no” the stranger begins thrusting again and Jim’s sentence ends in a breathy sigh. He’s suddenly worn out, and while the pressure and drag of the stranger’s cock still feel good, remaining standing is becoming more and more of a problem.

With a low moan, the stranger finishes, and his cock twitches inside of Jim as he comes. He pulls out quickly and Jim sighs at the loss.

Jim stays where he is for a moment, with his head resting against his hands on the wall. He needs to get home, he knows, but that involves moving, and moving is not good. He’s working up the mental energy to go, or at least pull up his trousers, when he feels them being pulled up for him.

The stranger, the _gentleman_ , gently turns Jim and props him against the wall while he does up Jim’s fly and belt buckle for him. He smiles at Jim and says, “Y’okay?”

“More than,” Jim confirms. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” the stranger says gruffly.

After a moment, the stranger nods decisively and opens the stall door.

He vanishes without another word, and Jim wearily pushes away from the wall.

Jim weaves his way out of the club and stumbles home. His whole body feels loose and relaxed, and even better: his mind is utterly blank.

***

Jim wakes up the next morning to a blaring alarm that says ‘Pike’ when he squints at it. Something about the name is familiar besides the bastard who dared him to do better. The stranger last night. P-something. Pax? Pete? Puck?

Jim is still fully dressed, with his shoes on, lying facedown on top of his bed. He’s actually really impressed that he made it home at all last night, let alone made it to his bed. However, making it to his bed doesn’t mean that he miraculously feels sober and alert. Jim figures he can give drunk Jim a break, though, since he managed to set an alarm to give him enough time to get to the Starfleet shuttle if he wants.

Jim groans loudly and rolls himself onto his back. “Fuck,” he draws out the word as long as he can, waiting for the dizziness to pass, and when he runs out of breath he heaves himself into a sitting position.

He stays as still as he can while he adjusts to being upright, and keeps his eyes clenched shut. He’s hoping that the world will stop spinning when he opens them. But while he waits, he flashes back on last night. Getting drunk, the pretty cadet, his ill-advised fight, fucking _Pike_ , getting more drunk, dancing, getting _more_ drunk, then broad shoulders and some kind of accent and the best fuck he’s had in recent memory.

“All in all, a good night,” he says to himself. Sure, he can’t remember what the guy looked like, or if they’d talked at all, or if he’d made a bigger fool of himself than normal, but he doesn’t care. He’s going to San Francisco.

Even though he’d spent the night drinking so he wouldn’t have to think about Starfleet, Jim woke up knowing that he was going to take Pike up on his dare, so he’s never going to see anyone in this shitshow of a town again. No use worrying about what some guy passing through the town thinks of him. Or the doubtless dozens of people who heard them having sex.

Pike is an asshole, but Jim knows he’s right. Jim is wasting away in the middle of nowhere and left to his own devices, he’d probably waste away to nothing. It’s a bleak future being in the middle of nowhere, bouncing between dead end jobs that he could easily do in his sleep. To be honest, he’s been itching for a while now with the desire to do more, but he couldn’t decide on what to do. And here came Pike with an option. An option that will surely piss Winona off, which is an added bonus, if Jim’s being honest with himself.

So. Jim will go to Starfleet, and he’ll never set foot back in Iowa again.

Resolved, Jim stands up, picks up his motorcycle keys and walks out the door. He’s not attached to anything in this apartment, or to anything in this town really. On the short walk from the door to his bike, he sends a quick comm to Abraxus to let him know he’s leaving town, and another one to his landlord letting him know he’s leaving, and that’s it.

***

Jim feels a bit awkward on the shuttle, being the only non-uniformed prick on board, until another disheveled man slams down into the seat next to him and gives him a long, detailed speech about how exactly they’re all going to die on the shuttle. Jim’s always had a soft spot for neurotic types, so he keeps the conversation going with the man – McCoy, he says – and by the time they hit San Francisco McCoy is ‘Bones’ and Jim is determined that they’ll be friends.

Jim isn’t sure why he latches on to Bones so quickly. Something about Bones strikes Jim as a kindred spirit, stupid as that sounds. Maybe it’s that McCoy also smells strongly of booze. Or that he’s also older than the rest of the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed cadets on the shuttle. Or that he reminds Jim of something he can’t quite pin down.

Whatever it is, it’s enough for Jim to hack into the student records as soon as they get processed to make sure he and Bones will get a room together.

Jim is bent over his bed, struggling to get the sheets over the far corner, when Bones walks in and makes a little strangled sound. Jim looks over his shoulder and sees that Bones is giving Jim a strange look.

“Bones!” Jim exclaims and clambers off the bed, pulling his shirt back down from where it had ridden up over his hips. “You made it.”

“I did,” Bones says and then pauses for some time. He doesn’t look confused, which Jim was expecting, but more perplexed, like he’s trying to figure out something. He seems more sober now, after a few hours of Starfleet enrollment, so maybe that’s it. “We’re rooming together?”

“Seems like it,” Jim says with a large grin.

Bones smiles finally, seeming to shake off his odd mood. “Imagine that,” he says drily. “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that, kid?”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about,” Jim says, and raises his eyebrows in a practiced look of innocence.

Bones snorts and sets his bag down on the unclaimed bed. “You know, as a mature student, I thought I’d get a single room.”

“Hm, guess not,” Jim says. He holds his innocent look for a beat longer before he breaks. “C’mon, Bones, you didn’t want to be alone, really, did you? All that talk about you having no one and nothing left means you must want someone around, right?” Jim hears how pleading he sounds and wants to smack himself. How pathetic is he? Jim has been self-sufficient for so long, needing nothing and no one but himself, but there’s just something about Bones that Jim can’t shake. He needs him around.

Bones rolls his eyes and bends to start unpacking his bag. “Sure would have made things easier,” Jim hears Bones mumble under his breath before he stands up and parrots back Jim’s words, “Guess not.”

Bones smiles then, and the crinkles around his eyes are enough to make Jim forget about what Bones mumbled. In their short acquaintance so far, Jim has yet to see Bones smile, and while he finds himself already fond of the grumbling and bitching, the smile is a shock. It’s not a huge smile, but Jim finds himself momentarily leaning in toward him. He catches himself in time, and turns the movement into a step towards the door.

“Well, I came here just with the clothes on my back, so I need to get a uniform and other shit sorted,” Jim trails off. He’s hoping Bones will want to come, but after forcing Bones to room with him, he’s aware that he should probably not push him too much too quickly.

“I’ll come with you,” Bones says.

Pleasure blooms in Jim’s chest at Bones’s easy response. As Bones follows Jim to the door, a sense of rightness settles over Jim, and Jim starts to think that maybe this Starfleet thing is going to work out after all.

***

This interaction seems to set the tone for their friendship. Jim pushes, and Bones gives in, albeit with some bitching and exasperated sighs. It really feels like Jim has known him longer than just the months they have spent together at the Academy.

It’s more than Jim could ever have wanted. This friendship, that he never expected, and never really knew he could have, satisfies something inside him, settles him in a way no friendship has done before. Being around Bones is like a balm. It doesn’t make sense, but he soothes the fractured edges of Jim’s mind just by being there.

When Jim works himself up about some jerk saying shit about Jim’s dad, Bones listens to Jim yell about it and then puts a warm hand on the back of Jim’s neck and just hold him there for a moment and all the fight drains right out of Jim. When Jim’s strung out on stims to keep himself awake to study for a test, Bones rolls his eyes, grumbles about overdosing assholes, and bundles Jim into bed for a nap. When Jim’s feeling penned in by the Academy and dying for an escape, Bones forces himself out of bed after only an hour of sleep following a late clinic shift just so that Jim can surf the first waves in the morning.

Jim’s never been this in sync with someone before, this sure of his place in the world when he is with someone. But here he is, trading half hearted insults with Bones on their way to their local bar, here he is, bringing Bones coffee and a snack between his classes when Jim knows Bones doesn’t have a long enough break for lunch and getting an eye roll and clasp on his shoulder as thanks, here he is, waiting outside the clinic for Bones after hearing from a classmate that one of Bones’s patients died.

So, here they are. Everywhere together: class, dorm, library, bar, clinic. But not bed. Never bed.

Jim had tried it one night, just days after they had met. He had taken Bones to a bar, which would later become their local, and after a few drinks he had leaned in purposefully, and Bones had jerked back quickly and said, “No.” So that was that. They kept drinking, they kept bantering, they went back to their dorm, they never spoke of it again.

In the end Jim is glad that they hadn’t fucked, because it might have ruined their easy give and take, and if Jim can help it, he is never giving up what he has with Bones.

But just because he isn’t fucking Bones doesn’t mean he isn’t fucking anyone. Jim has a healthy appetite for sex, and a time-honoured tradition of getting fucked good and hard to get him out of his head in times of stress.

So he goes out on the prowl, finds people to distract him from his thoughts for a little while at least, and it’s okay. It’s never as good as it was with the guy in Riverside right before he signed up with Starfleet, but it’s okay.

Jim never takes Bones along when he’s purposefully looking to get laid, and also purposefully never thinks about why that is. So what if Jim mainly goes out looking for meaningless sex on nights when Bones has late shifts at the clinic? It’s just easier to hook up when Bones isn’t there to detail symptoms of venereal diseases when he catches Jim picking a target.

Casual sex just doesn’t seem to be something that Bones is interested in. Jim isn’t sure if it’s because Bones still isn’t over his wife, or if he’s got a monogamy hang-up, or if he really is that worried about diseases, but whenever Jim tries to point out women for Bones, he gets rebuffed.

One night Jim has a moment of true genius, if he does say so himself, and nods, hopefully subtly, to a very handsome man at the end of the bar. “What about him?”

Bones takes a quick look then says, “Not my type.”

“C’mon, Bones, you didn’t even look,” Jim protests.

Bones huffs and takes a sip of bourbon, and then widens his eyes exaggeratedly to look at the guy Jim spotted. Then he looks back at Jim, “Not my type, Jimmy.”

Jim throws his hands up in disgust. “So, your type isn’t women, and isn’t men. What’s left - aliens?”

“Jim,” Bones growls lowly.

“Bones, you sly dog! I thought you liked women because Jocelyn sounds likes a human name, but she wasn’t, was she? You like blue, right? Was she an Andorian?”

“Jim, for the love of God, stop talking,” Bones groans.

“I figured it out,” Jim crows loudly. “You have an alien fetish!”

“Kill me,” Bones says. He roughly pulls Jim’s arms back down to the bar from where they were raised in victory.

“How did those get there?” Jim ponders. He vaguely notices more than a few people staring at them. Jim might be drunker than he thought.

“I like blue,” Bones parrots in an awful approximation of Jim’s voice. “So of course I have a fetish. You should talk, nympho. You know I walked in on you with the betazoid sisters, right? And the girl with the collar. And the guy with the candle wax. And the being with the tentacles. You’re lucky I like you.”

“I am,” Jim says serenely. “I like you just as you are, you alien-sexual dog, you.”

“Oh my god,” Bones groans and bangs his head on the bar in front of his drink.

Later, when they’re walking, well, stumbling, home, Jim can’t help but return to the subject. “So,” he draws out the first word till he knows he has Bones’s attention, “are you just celibate?”

“This again?” Bones asks. “Embarrassing me in front of the whole bar wasn’t enough?”

Jim squints at Bones in the darkness, trying to decide if Bones means it, then settles on a non-committal, “Not the _whole_ bar.”

Bones chuckles, and Jim knows he’s not actually upset. Jim spent a lot of time as a kid on edge at home, trying to recognize the shifts in his step-father’s temperament so that he could predict when his anger was going to boil over. He likes that it’s always easy to read Bones’s moods.

Jim lets a few beats of silence last before asking again, “So?”

“You aren’t going to give this up, are ya?”

“Nope,” Jim pops the ‘p’ obnoxiously. Considering how close they are, it’s always seemed odd to Jim that they don’t talk about sex. Friends should talk about sex, right? That was a thing, Jim was sure.

Bones sighs deeply, and Jim almost takes his question back. If he were sober, he would have, because despite all the prodding and needling he does, Jim does actually respect Bones’s boundaries. Hence the not talking about this before. But he waits, and a moment later, Bones speaks.

“I don’t reckon species or gender matters. I’ve been with women – and yes, Jocelyn was a woman, what the hell, Jim? – and with men, and aliens. I’m a grown-ass man, so it’s about who they are, not what they’re packing.”

“No anonymous hookups, then?” Jim asks.

Bones opens the door to their dorm building, and the light from inside illuminates the suddenly strange look Bones gives him. “Not when I’m in my right mind,” Bones says after a moment of contemplation.

“You’re telling me you’ve been ‘in your right mind’ every time we’ve been out the past six months? Even that time at the salsa club with Gaila?” Jim can’t help but tease.

“Fine. Only with the right person,” Bones amends.

They’ve reached their room now, and Jim steps in front of the door, stopping Bones from walking in. He needs to know. “But how would you know if they were the right person if it was an anonymous hookup?”

Bones groans and looks down the hall, apparently looking for a way out of the conversation. Jim knows Bones isn’t comfortable but he can’t help but push. The mystery of Bones’s lack of sex life might finally be solved, so he isn’t giving up. And besides, if Bones was really mad, he’d shove Jim away from the door and stomp to his bed. It’s happened before, Jim’s not ashamed to admit. Drunk Jim has a big goddamn mouth.

After avoiding Jim’s eyes for a full minute, Bones directs his, “I just would,” to the floor in between Jim’s feet.

“So it’s happened before?” Jim presses.

Still with a bowed head, Bones’s shoulders tighten, and he quietly confirms, “Yes.”

Bones looks up then, and Jim scans Bones’s face to assesses his level of discomfort, and decides that he’s not going to push anymore. Whatever happened obviously wasn’t something good, no matter what bullshit Bones was spinning about it being the right person. Jim knew all about sex with the right person but at the wrong time. He was still comparing every one of his hookups to the stranger from Riverside in the back of his mind. There had been something right about the man.

“Okay,” he says easily, and steps away from the door.

The tension drops immediately from Bones’s shoulders and he opens the door to lead them in. “I’ve got an early class, so I’m going to head to bed,” Bones says.

“I know,” Jim says. Of course he knows. He also knows this is Bones’s way of ending the conversation for good. Jim strips down to his boxers and crawls into bed, thoughts filled with a certain fingering-god from Iowa.

***

It’s a few weeks later, and Jim comes back to their dorm buzzing. He’s been up for three days straight. Apparently fitting a four year course into three years requires taking a lot of classes at once that all have similar schedules for when papers and presentations are due. Go figure.

“Can a blood stream turn into coffee? Because that’s what I think mine did,” Jim says as he pushes into their room.

Jim is expecting to see Bones stretched out on his bed, PADD propped up on his chest as he studies for the test he has on Friday. Instead, Jim gets an empty room.

“Fuck,” Jim says to himself. He’d been really hoping he could annoy Bones into a lecture about the dangers of caffeine intake. He feels jittery, and knows he won’t be able to sleep with all the information rattling around in his head. His brain is a vortex of Klingon policies of the 1050s, the mechanics of a phaser, and Starfleet’s first contact with the Vulcans. Threaded throughout is ‘not good enough, have to work harder.’ The very thought that had kept him up for so long as is.

Jim can’t stand the thought of failure, and knows he can take his academic dedication to the extreme, which is why he makes sure to regularly force himself out of his head when it gets to be too much. Sometimes that means getting Bones riled up enough to go on a long rant, guaranteed to distract and amuse Jim. Jim can’t help but love the way Bones gets all scowly and ragey and passionate. But Bones isn’t here to do the job, so Jim is going to have to go with the old standby.

Time of day had ceased to matter sometime on his second day in the library, but apparently it’s the middle of the morning now, so getting someone to fuck him out of this jittery, overwhelmed mood isn’t going to work. Jim is an equal opportunity kind of guy, so is generally happy to bottom, top, middle, whatever. He’s also happy to have regular fuck buddies, like Gaila, who he’ll have sex with as much as they both want, as long as feelings aren’t involved. But when he needs to get out of his head, the only thing for it is being pinned down and fucked so hard he can’t think anymore, and can only feel. And so far, in the seven months he’s been at the Academy, he hasn’t found anyone good enough at it for there to be someone reliable he can call up right now.

There had been a few times in Riverside where Jim needed a break from his inner turmoil but hadn’t been able to find anyone good enough to do the job, so he had invested in a small, but good, collection of sex toys. They aren’t ever as good as the real thing, but needs must.

Decision made, Jim showers as quickly as he can to wash the smell of three days in the library off him then flings himself on his bed, already reaching into the bottom drawer of his bedside table to grab his favourite vibrator and a tube of lube. He sets them both beside him and lays down on his back with his knees up. As soon as he is settled, he pops the top off the lube and slicks up his fingers, pushing one inside himself quickly. He usually likes a bit of a tease before getting straight to it, but right now his thoughts keep skipping, ‘to properly assemble a phaser, one must have access to – my presentation is going to be awful, Jameson’s a dick who hated my father so it doesn’t matter what I do – the first Vulcans encountered by humans were – shit I forgot to cite the L. Woolley papers’, so he waits only a moment before sliding a second finger in beside the first.

He scissors them perfunctorily, stretching himself just enough so he can fit his ring finger in now too. He tightens up instinctively at the speed of the intrusion, and stills his fingers halfway inside while he forces himself to relax. An edge of pain is important when he’s like this, but he’s not an idiot who’s going to hurt himself accidentally no matter what Bones says. He wiggles his fingertips slightly, enjoying the feel of how hot and slick he is, and pushes them steadily but slowly in up to his knuckles. He does _not_ think about what Bones’s fingers would feel like inside him, because that’d be crazy.

A gusty sigh leaves him at the stretch. Already, his frantic thoughts about his coursework have slowed as he focuses on the burn of the stretch, but he needs more if he’s still thinking about Bones. The point of the exercise is to have no thoughts, after all. He thrusts his three fingers in and out a few times just to get the feel of it, and then pulls them out all the way. He slicks up the vibrator with his already wet hand and then flicks the switch to turn it on.

He lets out a deep groan as he presses the head of the vibrator against his rim. This was what he needed. Little sparks of pleasure rocket up his spine as he teases himself by pressing it in and out shallowly, allowing himself only an inch before pulling it out to rub along his rim again.

His nerves are singing with pleasure when he finally allows himself to sheath the toy fully inside him. He moves the toy around, gently rotating it and enjoying the deep vibrations. He shivers hard as it finally brushes his prostate.

His feet scramble against his sheets as he tries to shift his hips up to get a better angle, the vibrator not quite nailing the right spot inside him. “Fuck,” he breathes in disappointment. He always forgets that though the vibrations on this toy are the most intense, its lack of curve makes hitting his prostate a difficult feat.

He pulls the toy out and tosses it on the bed next to him before maneuvering himself onto his hands and knees. He quickly grabs the toy and reaches back to press it into himself again.

The vibrator nails his prostate on the third thrust and the force of the pleasure knocks Jim to one elbow and he groans.

That is, of course, the moment Bones walks in. Jim didn’t even notice the door opening, but he hears Bones’s gasp. It thunders loudly in the room. Jim can’t even hear the vibrator anymore. Everything is still, Jim might not even be breathing.

Jim knows he should stop. He should pull the toy out. He should cover himself with his sheets. He should say sorry. He should stop. He should.

He comes.

He hasn’t moved the toy at all, frozen in his indecision at what to do, but the unrelenting pressure against his prostate causes his orgasm. It violently slams through him, and Jim yelps with surprise and can’t stop his body shaking hard through the aftershocks.

As if through a fog, Jim distantly hears his name. It sounds like a question.

Jim blinks hard. His brain has apparently packed up and gone. The amazing orgasm on top of the trauma of knowing Bones just saw him with a massive vibrator up his ass is too much for his brain to handle.

Jim distantly realises that he’s still shaking, locked into position balanced on his elbow and knees. He feels a hand soothe down his spine once, lightly. It brushes through his hair then follows the length of his spine again, more firmly.

“Bones?” Jim croaks.

“Yeah, darling,” Bones replies. He sounds like he’s speaking to a spooked deer.

“I’m not a deer,” Jim says. He knows that it’s not the right thing to say, but his brain has yet to fully reboot. Now, instead of white noise, his brain is chanting ‘bonesbonesbones’. Jim supposes it’s an improvement.

“Y’aren’t, I know,” Bones says. His (lovely, warm) hand has stopped petting Jim and Jim is about to protest, but then the (lovely, warm, broad) hand returns and Bones gently eases Jim onto his side.

“Bones, I didn’t mean –” Jim starts, panic starting to rise through the fog.

Bones just shushes him, and gently eases the vibrator out of Jim.

Jim hadn’t even realised it was still in him. His brain reboots suddenly all the way and his mortification slams into him like a train. “Bones. Stop,” Jim yells suddenly, but the damage is done. Bones has removed the toy and is pulling a sheet up over Jim’s still slightly shivering form.

As soon as the sheet is settled over Jim, Bones backs quickly away, hands up to show he isn’t going to do anything. With his back up against the wall, Bones asks, “Are you okay, Jim?”

Jim heaves in a breath. He had thought he wanted Bones away from him, but he just feels cold now. He doesn’t know how to explain himself. Or should he apologise? He doesn’t know why he feels so much more exposed this time compared to the times Bones had walked in on him having sex with people.

Jim sits up against the headboard, with the sheet tugged up to waist. “I didn’t know you were,” Jim starts and then stops. His thoughts feel like they’re travelling through molasses.

“My class was cancelled,” Bones says calmly.

“I just got home and was,” Jim stops again. Don’t admit weakness, don’t admit you’re a failure.

“Overwhelmed,” Bones fills in for him.

Jim pulls a face, but nods. “And,” Jim waves a hand as if in explanation.

“You needed to get fucked,” Bones says bluntly.

“Fuck!” Jim yelps. “Bones!”

“You think I didn’t know about your coping mechanism?” Bones asks. He sounds amused, right eyebrow sky-high as it always is when he’s smug about something. Jim hates that he finds it so attractive. “You think I don’t know about all the guys you let fuck you hard enough that you can’t remember your own name let alone whatever’s stressing you?” Bones’s voice has gone low, and his eyes are dark.

“Um,” Jim says intelligently. “No?”

Bones chuckles. “And never the same guy?” he asks, somewhat idly, as if he already guessed the answer.

“No. They’re never,” Jim waves a hand again. “Right,” he finishes.

A strange looks crosses Bones’s face at his admission, and it suddenly reminds Jim of the look he got from Bones that night Jim pressed him on his anonymous hookups. Strange, indeed.

The look is gone in a flash, though, and Bones looks oddly satisfied. Which seems an odd thing for him to feel, but Jim prides himself on reading Bones’s expressions and that’s what it is. Satisfied.

“Chasing something, Jimmy?” Bones asks.

Jim frowns a bit, debating whether to share his ridiculous quest to find as good a fuck as that stranger in Riverside. No doubt Bones would think it was nonsense, what with his own stance on anonymous hookups.

“There was someone,” Jim says, looking away from Bones. He draws his legs up and tucks his arms around them, keeping the sheet wrapped around tightly around them. “A guy. In Riverside.”

“Yeah? What did this guy do that was special?”

Jim choked out a laugh. Bones and his only sleeping with special, ‘right’ people thing. Jim needs to deflect. Because it wasn’t special, really. He’d never dwelled on a hookup for this long before, but still, “It was just a fuck, Bones.”

There’s a flash of disappointment on Bones’s face before it’s gone and he asks, “So why are you still thinking about him?”

Jim scrubs a hand over his face in irritation. “I don’t know, okay, Bones? He was perfect. Is that what you want to hear? That I compare everyone I fuck at the Academy to him? It doesn’t matter, Bones, he was just some guy. Someone I’ll never see again. Fuck!” Jim exclaims the last word. “Thanks for ruining my afterglow, Bones.” He’s mad now and lashing out. It’s petty, but he’s been awake for going on 76 hours, and he doesn’t need to be reminded of how childish his crush on the stranger is.

Bones smiles at him, a little sadly, a lot tender.

Jim can’t handle that right now. He feels like an exposed wire, with all his stupid feelings out there for everyone to see, and no defenses to hide behind because he’s so damn tired and he doesn’t know what Bones’s face means anymore which is something he can always do. “I need a nap, Bones,” he says tiredly.

“Okay,” Bones says. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Joy,” Jim mumbles under his breath as he scoots down on the bed and rolls onto his side away from Bones. He thinks that it’ll take him ages to fall asleep, but between one breath and the next, he passes out.

***

“Jim, darling, wake up. You’ve got your presentation in an hour,” Bones’s voice wakes Jim up suddenly.

“Goddamnit, it’s Friday already?” Jim asks as he sits up in bed.

“Yeah,” Bones says drily. “It comes after Thursday, usually.”

“Your face comes after Thursday,” Jim says petulantly as he stands and walks quickly to the shower. If he pretends hard enough, maybe he can wish away the fact that he’s naked and covered in spunk.

As he shuts the fresher door behind him, Jim hears Bones laugh. He enjoys the sound for all of a second before the conversation from last night comes flicking back into his memory.

He shakes his head hard. Presentation on phaser mechanics first, awkward, possibly friendship-ruining, talk with Bones second.

When he gets out of the fresher Bones is gone from their room. On Jim’s desk is a banana and a note that says ‘you’ll be fine. Eat the banana.’

Jim rolls his eyes, but appreciates the gesture.

He pulls on his uniform quickly, snags his banana and data PADD and runs out of the room.

***

The presentation does go well, thanks to some last minute tweaks Jim makes on his walk to the lecture hall. The post-three-day-work-binge mess of Jim’s mind is clear now and he’s able to see the few things that do need to be fixed, and see that the rest actually is fine.

He stops by the library to finish up his two essays, and after submitting them realises that he has no other excuses to avoid the room.

Bones is eating a sandwich at the table when Jim gets home.

There goes Jim’s small hope that Bones would get a last-minute shift at the clinic today and they could keep avoiding this for a while longer.

Jim sits down across from him and snags the other half of Bones’s sandwich. Because he’s a mature adult, he takes a big bite so he won’t be expected to speak first.

They eat in companionable silence until the sandwich is gone. Jim is about ready to jump out of his skin because Bones hasn’t bitched at him for stealing his sandwich and that’s obviously wrong and how has this all spiraled so out of control? Jim gears himself up to say something adult like, “Do we need to ask for different room assignments?” because it’s always better to break things off first before people get fed up with him, Jim knows.

Luckily, before he can open his mouth and stick his foot in it, Bones breaks the silence. “I didn’t know it was you, at first.”

That is so far away from what Jim was expecting to hear. He was waiting for a lecture on private time being private, or how Bones needs some space so could Jim find another room, or maybe even how romantic-to-the-core Bones thinks he should try to find Riverside guy.

When Jim doesn’t speak, Bones continues, “I didn’t recognize you on the shuttle, is what I mean. What with the hangover, and all.”

“Recognize me?” Jim asks. He’s supposedly a genius, but Bones has this annoying knack of stupefying him every so often.

Bones huffs, obviously amused. “Yeah, I didn’t see it until I walked into our room and saw you bent over making the bed, ass in the air.”

“See it?” Jim feels like a broken record just repeating what Bones says. “Wait. Stop. You recognized my ass.”

Bones blushes bright red and he looks down to hide it. He reaches up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You recognized my _ass_ ,” Jim repeats and a giggle slips out.

“It’s a nice ass,” Bones says, looking up at Jim through his goddamn pretty eyelashes, grinning.

“It’s a _great_ ass,” Jim says, grinning broadly now. He waits a beat then declares, “You’re the lumberjack.”

“Paul Bunyan,” Bones laughs. “Nice to meet you, Johnny.”

Jim laughs brightly. “I’ve fantasized about your fingers for half a year, Bones, and you’re telling me this whole time you knew?”

Bones’s smile fades a bit. “I didn’t know if you remembered, Jim. If you didn’t remember then that means I wasn’t good enough to remember, but if I reminded you and you actually had remembered but didn’t act on it, well. I couldn’t stand losing the only friend I had made in this school of toddlers just because I had feelings and you didn’t.”

“But I _do_ have feelings,” Jim protested.

“You do?” Bones looks shy, and Jim feels fit to burst with how much he wants to kiss him.

“I do. I made a move on you!” Jim exclaims.

“I didn’t think you meant it. You were drunk,” Bones says, and he stands up to walk over to look out the window.

Jim isn’t letting him get away now, though, so he leaps up and strides over to Bones. He grips Bones’s arm to pull him to face Jim. “Bones, when am I not drunk?” Jim asks.

Bones chuckles. “Less often than you’d have people believe,” he says, and that tender look from last night is back.

Jim rolls his eyes and says, “You know it’ll be all the more satisfying to finish this course in three years at the top of the class with everyone thinking I never studied.”

“I know,” Bones says, mirroring Jim’s eye roll. They’ve had this talk many times before, with Bones complaining about Jim barely sleeping to fit in all his classes, all his partying, and all his studying, and Jim ignoring him happily, but taking shameless advantage of Bones knowing his schedule and being willing to wake him up to get him where he needs to be.

“Okay,” Jim says, “but I wasn’t drunk enough not to mean it. Bones, I was scared too.” It scary now to admit it, but Jim is determined not to miss any more time with Bones and his (fucking awesome, broad, always distracting) hands.

“So, this is you meaning it?” Bones asks. He is facing Jim completely now, where Jim has backed him into the window, and Jim can read the hope in his eyes easily.

“Yes,” Jim breathes. He leans in and brushes a soft kiss against Bones’s lips.

Bones responds beautifully. His mouth opens just enough to suck Jim’s bottom lip between his own, and his hands come up to frame Jim’s hips.

Jim presses Bones more firmly against the wall and lifts his hands to cup Bones’s jaw to angle the kiss. He slides his knee in between Bones’s thighs and when Bones gasps, Jim licks deeply into Bones’s mouth.

Bones’s hand glide firmly from Jim’s hips to cup his ass and he pulls Jim upwards so that their clothed cocks rock against each other with a delicious feeling of friction and warmth.

Even though he’d rather die right now then stop, Jim pulls back slightly to say, “Bones.”

“Yeah, darling?” Bones says distractedly. He dips his head to kiss a trail from Jim’s mouth to his neck.

“Just,” Jim says, flushing. “I’m so fucking glad it was you.”

Bones murmurs, “Me too,” before he drags his mouth back up to Jim’s for a fierce kiss.

Their hips take on a more frantic pace as Jim keeps Bones pinned against the wall and powerfully thrusts up against him.

This has never been Jim’s preferred way of getting off. It’s rare that heights match well enough to make it work, but with Bones it feels right. Jim’s cock grinds against Bones’s, the fabric of their clothing a teasing barrier between them, making him want more. But he can’t bring himself to move away, to lose the warm press of Bones’s body against him even for as long as it would take to strip them naked.

Bones’s tongue flicks against his, and Jim remembers vividly what it had felt like against the head of his cock. It makes his cock twitch in anticipation, makes his hips thrust harder. Bones moans against his lips, his hands clutching at Jim, holding him close, thrusting back against him.

It doesn’t take long before the delicious friction, and Bones’s sweet, hot mouth panting against his sends Jim spiraling over the edge.

Jim squeezes one hand into Bones’s uniform trousers and palms Bones’s cock. He had never gotten to touch it before, only felt it thrusting deep inside him, and now grinding against his groin, and it is just as warm and solid and delicious feeling as Jim had imagined it would be. It only takes a few uncoordinated grasps before Bones spills all over Jim’s hand.

Jim draws his hand out carefully out of Bones’s trousers and licks it slowly.

“Goddamn it, Jim,” Bones says, sounding a bit dazed, but mostly annoyed. “Did nothing I told you about venereal diseases stick in that pretty head of yours?”

Jim laughs brightly and steps out of head-smacking range. “This is going to be fun.”

“So there’s a ‘this’, then?” Bones asks. He steps away from the wall and towards Jim.

“Well, we should probably try fucking not against a wall for once,” Jim say, smirking. “Just a thought.”

“We do have these nice beds, right here,” Bones agrees, smiling soft and tender.

“So, we should probably try them out. A few times. Many times?” Jim asks.

“Many times,” Bones says, and he nudges Jim back towards his bed.

Jim walks backwards to the bed, letting Bones’s hands on his waist guide him. “Monogamously?” Jim asks.

“If you –” Bones starts, sounding tentative.

Jim cuts him off because he can’t stand any uncertainty creeping into what he has officially claimed as ‘Bones’s Jim Smile’. He quickly says, “I do.”

Jim’s knees hit the edge of Bones’s bed and he collapses happily onto it.

“That’s settled then,” Bones says a bit gruffly, because he wouldn’t be Bones if he didn’t bluster a bit. He pushes Jim onto his back and kneels over him.

“Settled,” Jim agrees. He raises his head off the bed, straining to get his lips back on Bones’s.

“I’m going to fuck you till you don’t remember your name, darling,” Bones growls, “But you damn well are going to remember mine this time.”

“Yes, Paul,” Jim says and grins.


End file.
